


Any Further

by lunabelieves



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27352420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunabelieves/pseuds/lunabelieves
Summary: Before we go any further, Ash would like you all to know that he is a complete and total sex god.Jo would like you to know that it was all his fault.
Relationships: Ash/Jo Harvelle





	Any Further

Before we go any further, Ash would like you all to know that he is a complete and total sex god.

Jo would like you to know that it was all his fault.

\--

\--

The sky is shades of red and mango, fading darker and darker, falling and landing across her skin in the most elegant, romantic way that he never could have pictured (And Ash isn‘t even used to being romantic.). She's delicate in a way that he hasn’t anticipated, expecting her to be rougher around the edges, harder to handle.  
Jo’s got a shotgun in her hands, shooting at bottles lined along the porch. She practices every day, but he’s never bothered watching her before. To see it now, he can tell he’s been missing out on something great.  
Her hair’s twisted back in a ponytail, keeping stray strands out of her face, her eyes full of concentration. When all but one bottle has shattered, she looks up at him, a small frown creasing her skin.

“Nine out of ten,” He notes, finishing his beer.

“It isn’t good enough.” She growls. “That one shot could be what gets me killed.”

“It ain’t bad.” He’s trying to raise her spirits. If he doesn’t make some effort, she’ll sulk all night and be right back out here tomorrow, shooting till she can hit each bottle without missing a beat.  
Some day, he wants to go to her mother and explain that hunting is in Jo’s blood, like its in Sam and Dean’s. She knows who she is and he knows who she is. He can’t see her working behind the bar at The Roadhouse forever, taking over Ellen’s job when she’s dead and gone.

Yeah, some day, he’s gonna tell her. Just not when she has a shotgun in her hands.

“You look like you need a drink.” He says, like he has one to offer.

She just looks at him and for a second, he’s sure Jo thinks he’s lost his mind. That is, until she speaks.

“One drink.”

\--

\--

It turns out, one drink turns into almost five drinks, if he didn’t pluck the half filled bottle from her hands. “Think you’ve had enough,” He’s only slurring slightly, because he can (in his own opinion) hold his tequila better than she can.  
“Give it!” She giggles and part of him muses that it’s been a good long while since he heard Jo let out anything close to a giggle. Even a snort, when she dismisses something he’s said. He decides, as he lifts the bottle higher and moves out from behind the bar, she should really giggle more.  
Again, she reaches for it and he uses his height to an advantage, inching to his tip toes to playfully keep it from her hands.

That is, until she knocks him onto the pool table and pins him there.

Well. That’s new.

They’re pressed together, real close and it’s like puzzle pieces. They just fit together, which is kinda nice.

She looks down at him and for a moment, neither speak. There’s no laughter or giggles, like all the humor’s been siphoned out of the situation. Like as soon as the hit the table, things changed.

And he won’t deny, as Jo presses their mouths together, that they certainly have.

\--

\--

Before we go any further, Ash would like you all to know that this is the part where he thought Ellen would come in and then leave again to go grab a shot gun.

\--

\--

It is not Ellen that catches them. Not even close.

Turns out there’s a demon spawn that’s been dispatched one or two states over and apparently, the Winchesters thought it’d be nice to drop by.  
The door opens and spills in the last few bits of sun left, but its blocked quickly by a dark shadow.

Jo’s shirt has been shed, fallen away somewhere, as has Ash’s own. Her nimble fingers, so adept at performing rudimentary surgery on a number of hunters, is currently ghosting over the zipper to his pants. His hands are on her breasts, still kept a mystery by her bra.

And that shadow stops all the fun.

Dean Winchester is just gaping at them and Jo looks over her shoulder, the slightest frown on her lips. Ash isn’t frowning or smiling or making much of an expression at all. Just staring.

“Dean.” Jo’s words are caught in her throat as the oldest Winchester turns and nearly runs his brother over walking out the door.  
Sam casts a worst shadow and he actually speaks, whereas his brother was at least silent.

“Hi Jo. Ash.”


End file.
